


wanting to make you happy and warm and unafraid and free

by hoars



Series: Strangeness and Charm [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: 1880s, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Gypsy, England - Freeform, M/M, Magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-06
Updated: 2012-12-06
Packaged: 2017-11-20 11:20:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/584848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hoars/pseuds/hoars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Laura called you a thief." Derek breathes into his neck.</p><p>"And what did the she-wolf call you?" Stiles asks.</p><p>"She called me a gypsy." And Derek does not sound wronged. He sounds insecure and of longing.</p><p>"Then perhaps she finally speaks truths." Stiles says. "I am a thief and you like me, a Roma."</p>
            </blockquote>





	wanting to make you happy and warm and unafraid and free

**Author's Note:**

> It recently occurred to me, I never said what chovihano or gorja means. Oops. Most of you probably assumed correctly chovihano means magic user (shaman, fortune teller, etc, or as close of word as I could find) and gorja means house dweller.
> 
> Title is once again from Roger Bonair-Agard's "Your Bed is Too Small for Fucking and Poetry." Still un'betaed.
> 
> Tarot cards are explained in the bottom notes.
> 
> Thanks to everyone who commented and made me think about this universe until I absolutely had to expand on it. This is for you!

His mother's gift was in the lines of a man's palm.

From the lines she could predict a man's fortunes, despairs and even death; although, the first thing she taught Stiles was to never predict death.

"They will hate you for it." She said softly the first time he read it in the cards. "A fortune teller is everyone's friend as long as the news is good. If the news is bad," she shrugged and her red shawl slid off her too narrow shoulders. "We all get chased from town."

Stiles' gift laid in the cards.

He deck is split into two houses and the house called the minor arcana is split into four suites. The pictures on each card are ornamentally beautiful. All the meanings of each card were hidden in the images and they held no secrets from Stiles. He had been able to read the cards before he could actually read the text written on the bottom in gold script.

" _Chovihano_." His mother whispered with pride. "Like me."

His father is disappointed by the news a simple spread reveals to him. The man had hoped for a son to teach his trade to, but instead Stiles goes to learn from Deaton.

Deaton is a dark skinned man that joined the caravan days before the wolf-people -- “Werewolves,” his mother shared, her eyes wise --began to travel alongside them.

"He is their _chovihano_." His mother shares. "He will be a good teacher for you. There is not much, my love, that I can teach you about your Path."

Deaton's caravan is small. Extremely tiny even compared to the one he shares with his parents, Scott and Scott’s mom. And the tiny wood wagon is decorated vastly different from everyone else’s too. Instead of the rich colors of Russia and India, Deaton's is furnished with heavy fur pelts and the colors of bone. "It's the color of the sands of my home." Dragon laughed when Stiles revealed his suspicions about the man murdering a hapless _gorja_ in order to decorate his home.

He is a kind and patient teacher and the Lord knows he needs both in great measure with Stiles as a student.

It isn't that Stiles is a bad student; one could say he is an extremely good student, always eager to learn. The problem was, Stiles was curious about absolutely _everything_.

He wanted Deaton to explain the local vegetations they came across. He wanted the stars explained. He wanted to hear all the lore there was to be told. And Deaton would laugh, "I have no quarrel against telling you it all, but perhaps not all at once?" This isn't to say Stiles didn't learn anything from his father.

His father taught him to be proud of the things his hands were capable of and how to love fiercely.

Deaton did not have a wife or family. "I was raised by a shaman since I was weaned." And proclaimed no skill for a craft like love.

"Your mother," his father would say with a sad smile for all that he was completely devoted and helplessly in love with her. "Fell in love with the man I will be and not the man I am."

His mother grew sad when Stiles mentioned his father's words, "Your father is a man loved by a bird. The turtle dove loves him fiercely and will refuse to ever leave his side, but she is still a bird and he a man."

When Stiles was too young to remember, Miss Melissa and her little son joined the caravans, theirs in particular.

Stiles once asked the cards why and was so angry at Scott's father; he never asked the cards again.

Miss Melissa had worked as a maid on a lord's estate and as many men in power did, he took advantage of a woman who couldn't say no. "You looked at their past." His mother said when she found him with angry tears in his eyes. "Let me tell you about men with power."

For as long as Scott asked Stiles to read for him, Stiles always danced around the truth of why the Emperor card was in his past.

It's when they turn sixteen that the cards began to reveal another Path for Scott.

The Moon began to haunt every spread no matter the questions asked. The same card that has always accompanied his Fool. Unlike Scott's Moon, which was crossed with the Emperor, the one that is always alongside his Fool is crossed with Justice.

Unfortunately, he is unable to ask his mother for guidance any longer. Her illness finally bested her despite all the herbs and magics the midwives and Deaton bestowed upon her.

Deaton's advice was vague and unhelpful. "My gift lies with the bones." He explained. "Your cards are never a craft I ever understood."

Surprisingly, it's his father that answers his questions. "It's the Moon isn't it? If you proclaim yourself the Fool, why can't two men have claim to the Moon? The werewolves all share her as mother."

 _Werewolves_ , Stiles thought with no small amount of glee.

The people who traveled in the shadow of the _Roma_ were little mystery to him. Not when their howls broke the night sky every full moon and it was even less mysterious when a lunatic, "A thrice caused moon mad beast." Finstock spat, attacked them one night as they passed through a forest and the men and women lurking at the edges of their caravan snake sprang into movement.

Children Stiles only ever saw from a distance sat with the _Roma_ women and children in the caravans, while the men capable of shooting in the dark took position from the wagon tops, others with sickles ready to protect the horses, the dogs whining and cowering. Stiles followed Deaton and together they made a ring of rowan ash around their people, “Rowan is holy." Deaton explained. "No supernatural being may cross the lines we make with it."

Howls and snarls and growls chased each other. Stiles watched as the men and women that traveled with them began darting between trees, chasing large wolves with red eyes.

"Keep an eye on the circle." Deaton reminded. "It must not break or the mad will fall upon us."

The battle seems to last hours instead of minutes, but finally the werewolves, _their_ werewolves, begin to appear from the darkness.

"Break the circle!"

"We have three badly injured!"

"Someone get Maleva!"

"Melissa! Prepare the water, comfrey, honey and bandages! Scott! Help me get this one to the wagon!"

Stiles struggled to take it all in, so much chaos, when Deaton touched his elbow. "We are not done."

They followed a strange path, how Deaton knew where to go Stiles was eager to discover because it _had_ to be magic. They find a woman, completely bare except for the blood painting her and Stiles recognizes her as the woman the werewolves followed and obeyed.

"Deaton," She greeted and her eyes were _red_. Glowing like the stained glass of the French churches. Stiles had stared at her eyes, completely awed, their conversation only a buzz in his ears. Stiles had magic, a gift, but this woman _was magic_.

They bury the dead. Two Hale werewolves are buried under a triskelion made of basil. "The Hale pack's symbol. Any werewolf that passes these graves will know them for bravely defending the pack." The three _lunatics_ they bury with a spiral of wolf's bane over their graves. "For vendetta. Alpha Hale believes all her cousins deserve vengeance for the madness the hunters have inflicted upon them."

The work is dirty and hard; the werewolves only able to help so much due to the wolf’s bane the _lunatics’_ graves require.

He's tired and dirty and was checking to see if Scott was still aiding Miss Melissa when Fate allows Stiles more than a glimpse at her hand. Stiles does not find his friend but blue eyes unlike any other pair, glowing. There was cloth in the werewolf's mouth and four women holding him down as Miss Melissa cleaned his wounds.

"Shoo! Unless you wish to wear our skirts and learn our magic too?" Esme asked.

She began pushing at him, herding him to leave like a birth was occurring. Crazy woman.

"I'm going!" He protested as he tried getting a better look at his Moon-Justice from around her form.

She scoffed and threw a rag over his face and pushed him out of the wagon, making him fall on his back and elbows.

He reads the cards that night and smiles. Soon, he will speak to his Moon-Justice.

What happens to Scott isn't Stiles' fault for all that he's known it will happen for months. He warned Scott not to wander the woods at night, but he had to get Marie the night gladiolus flower to prove his love to her is no child's play.

"If I were a girl, I would have been very impressed that you nearly got mauled by a lunatic." Stiles tries cheering up his friend.

"She said she would have been more impressed if I had brought her the flower as well." Scott huffs. "As it is, my affection for her is dead. As dead as I wish to be. The Elders have me learning control from the Hales. They promised my mother she need not punish me for wandering the woods because they will." He mopes.

"At least you aren't dead. I thought for sure Miss Melissa was going to wring your neck for trying to hide the Bite from her." Stiles laughs.

It is after such a lesson, Stiles meets his Moon-Justice.

His name is Derek, Stiles discovers, and he is everything Stiles hoped he'd be.

The Beta wolf, "I will help my sister lead her pack when she finds a suitable husband and mate," reveals more than he most likely ever intended. While Derek taught Scott to change back from his wolf face, he taught Stiles about his appreciation for the chimes that hang from the Maleva's and her ilk's wagon. The day he teaches Scott about how his relationships with humans have changed, Stiles learns Derek is shy when it comes to humans. Painfully so.

As his people's _chovihano_ and Derek's by association due to his association to Scott, he pursues friendship with the older being because Derek needs Stiles to navigate the other _Roma_ and townspeople their traveling has them meeting. The _Roma_ are more accepting of strangeness but even they are wary of Derek, but Stiles has plans to change their wariness into camaraderie. The townspeople are a little more difficult to manage but Stiles decides after some stupid sheepherder boy tries to punch him for telling him the baker’s daughter was never going to marry him that Derek’s growly, fearsome persona is better off for everyone including Derek because no one ever messes with him or tries ripping him off when he peddles furs and meat. But mostly it’s better for Stiles. By the time Derek is readily settling by his tent flap with a glare as Stiles tells fortunes to boys and girls and men and women, Stiles thinks they're friends.

"Get me a rabbit's foot and I'll tell you about the bugbears that live in that tree hollow over there." Stiles jerks his chin towards the tree with a grin.

Derek jerks his head to stare at the cluster of hollowed out trees to his right. Stiles’ grin gets a little bigger, bouncing excitedly in place. Derek gets a look upon his face like he isn't sure if Stiles is playing a prank, but he begins to move towards the sounds of rabbits, or at least that what Stiles is assuming. He watches the werewolf take off into the woods, shooting one last glance of suspicion over his shoulder, with a laugh trying to work its way out of Stiles' chest.

Derek comes back with a bloody mouth and rabbit in his hand minutes later. The neck bloody and broken. Stiles grin widens and motions for the animal. "Before I've turned grey."

Derek holds the rabbit out and Stiles takes it and cuts off the left foot with the knife he knows better to ever leave camp without. "Hold that." He slaps the foot in Derek's hand, the warmth of his hand startling Stiles for a moment. It's like Derek's body heat is traveling up his arm to his chest.

Stiles blinks.

He goes back to skinning the rabbit, cutting the meat from the bones, cutting them into strips. He divides the meat into equal piles and gently puts each pile at the base of each hollowed trees.

Stiles hums a song while waiting for the bugbears to creep from their homes. Derek's eyebrows were high and questioning, impatient, convinced Stiles was playing a prank. Stiles resisted the urge to laugh at the image Derek made, sitting besides Stiles on the log, in dark animal hides and clothes, holding a bloody rabbit foot with the mouth to match. Stiles didn’t know why Derek always assumed his happiness was constantly at the werewolf’s expense. It wasn’t Derek’s humiliation that caused Stiles to laugh and smile, but _Derek himself_.

"Shhh." Stiles claps a hand over Derek’s mouth, insuring silence, when Derek opens his mouth to speak biting words. The tingle spreads through his body again and his face hurts from his smile and wonders if he can cause himself permanent damage by smiling all the time."Can you see them yet? Creeping down the trees?"

Derek's mouth moves against his palm, like he couldn’t help but drop it in his surprise. Stiles has seen bugbears before. They are like tiny bear cubs that only stand on two legs with long light brown ears. They chatter happily at the meal provided and some of the young ones are showing themselves off to them, happy to have an audience that can see them for once. But the look of wonder on Derek's face is easily more appealing than the bugbears no matter how cute. Stiles removes his hand, blood smeared over Derek’s mouth in the pattern of Stiles’ fingers so he can see Derek’s expression in all its glory.

Derek is always so serious. His face is always smooth from expression. It always make Stiles grin and his heart thud pleasantly when he can coax an expression to his face. Always, always, always. He's gotten anger, annoyance, frustration, amusement and fondness before but never wonder. _Never_. He finds that it's an expression he wants to see on Derek's face a lot more, especially directed at him.

Stiles finds himself addicted to the look that day and does everything he can think to earn it.

He shows Derek his fortune telling cards, the hobs, gnomes, brownies, pixies, a dryad, a banshee, the _rusalka_ , and any others he can find as they travel the England. He shows Derek how his magic works, how he can weave protections from rowan and holly branches and twine. Shows him the things he can do with robin eggs, bird feathers, bells and different colored strings. It’s never enough. Stiles is always trying harder to best himself in making Derek’s face adopt that look of wonder again and again.

He makes Derek a talisman. It's just a smooth, white rock with a circle worried into the center. He found it on a beach when Derek and his pack were in town mingling as fur traders to scope the town for either rumors of hunters or to see how they'd receive gypsy attention. His magic makes the stone glint with specks of gold when he’s finished with it. It’s meant to keep Derek safe.

He doesn't give it to Derek. Laura's stare erasing any desire he had to.

The woman doesn't like him and he'd be lying if he said he didn't know why. It's just, Derek is so much more than just Laura's Beta. Stiles has read of the things Derek can be capable of in his cards and all of them are great. He just doesn't believe in himself, doesn't see himself as someone who can _want_.

A Beta cannot marry nor have children. They are the Alpha's protection against a power hungry mate. The other members of the pack are the Alpha's children. It would be Derek's job to raise and protect Laura's family and Stiles can't just watch that happen. Derek, Derek is _more,_ is important to Stiles, to Stiles’ foundation and magic and he can’t imagine not having Derek, and Stiles’ can’t have him if Derek remains Laura’s Beta. There’s _rules_.

He feels the pull of something, drawing him to Derek, the pull Deaton and Alpha Hale keep trying to instigate between him and Laura, demanding he make the werewolf the center of his world, and Stiles doesn’t want to refuse, so he doesn't. _Allows_ it, _embraces_ it even.

He's wanted Derek since the Moon-Justice began appearing side by side his Fool.

"Laura called you a thief." Derek breathes into his neck.

"And what did the she-wolf call you?" Stiles asks.

Derek is silent, simply breathing and Stiles revels in the magic in his skin writhing to reach Derek. Like all parts of Stiles, his magic loves Derek. It curls around Derek whenever it can, keeping the werewolf loved and safe from the venom of a hurt sister. Stiles can still see the silver-white scars of Laura claws from that night, the night Derek and Stiles became DerekandStiles.

"It can occur that a werewolf and magic user may develop a bond." Deaton said the first night Derek's eyes glowed red, his hands bloodied as he mended the gashes on Derek’s chest closed to match the silver scars the lunaticsfrom months previous have left. "And that the werewolf adjusts to the magic user's status, and you, Stiles, are your people's  _chovihano_. You will help lead them."

"She called me a gypsy." And Derek does not sound wronged. He sounds insecure and of longing.

"Then perhaps she finally speaks truths." Stiles says. "I am a thief and you like me, a _Roma_."

The thing between them is as ancient as it is new when they arrive in Black Marsh. A strange werewolf had met with Alpha Hale weeks previously and shared a conversation with her that had them changing their destination from Liverpool to the home of Whittemore Hall.

The place is dreary and gray. "It smells like fear." Derek whispers in his ear. "And death."

The caravan settles far enough from the town to discourage visitors. "This is not a place in need of our services." Elder Travj says. "Be quick alpha wolf, so we may depart from these hostile eyes."

Stiles puts a cuff around Derek's wrist to ward against the evil eye and watches him disappear towards the town with his mother, sister, Scott and a beta Stiles has never spoken to. "Be safe." Stiles orders and Derek turns to give him one last lingering look.

The werewolves that used to hang on the fringe of _Roma_ camps are intermingled with his people. His cards tell him the fault lies with him and Derek and their union. If Stiles is Derek's their primal minds reason, then the _Roma_ are theirs too and in this place where darkness lives, the werewolves prowl with the need to defend and protect what is theirs.

"Men having been dying here, women violated." Deaton explains grimly. "Madam Hale had no proof until Jacob gave word, but the lunatic hunting in this region is her brother, and her responsibility. He is biting men and women and abandoning them to their senses. He's bringing hunters down upon the heads of all the werewolves of England trying to live peacefully.”

"Madam Hale will kill her brother?" Stiles asks.

"Justice must be done." Deaton says.

"Will we be joined by this lunatic's bitten children?" Stiles asks.

"Perhaps." Deaton answers. "They are Hales by extension."

Derek does not come back that night. Stiles' cards all say the same thing, life and safety, but he still worries. They have not spent a night apart since they've established their bond, and his magic is reaching for Derek's quiet and reassuring presence and causing him a headache when it cannot find the werewolf.

They return the next morning, faces grim.

Derek disappears with his pack and Stiles only gets a glimpse of him before Scott is pale and in his face. "I messed up." He whispers thickly. "This is all my fault. I'm so sorry. I didn't know. I didn't know something like this was _possible_."

By the time Stiles has pulled the entire story from Scott, "I found a mate," he whispered horrified, dread is heavy in Stiles’ stomach. He reads the cards and each spread shows the same card of ruin over and over: The Tower. He can't find a solution that doesn't end in destruction for their people or for the wolves. It means --

"The _Roma_ must leave." Elder Travj says by the fire pits where the entire camp can hear him. "Misfortune and ruin will destroy us otherwise."

"I'm sorry." Scott choked. "I don't know how it happened. One second I was speaking to the doctor's assistant and the next all I could see was her eyes. I-- She saw my eyes. She shot me with a crossbow."

"Our friendship with the werewolves has been discovered. The hunters are coming for us too." Elder Travj says. "We need to disperse. Quickly!"

"There was another woman with her, she screamed for the entire town to hear that the Gypsies hide the beasts." Scott finished. "They're coming for my mom, for you, for everyone."

"Those with room, we have been asked to take in the children of the werewolves." Elder Travj continues. "The werewolves will stay. Lead our prosecutors away from us if we take their children."

Stiles can't breathe. They're splitting up. The _Roma_ will go towards the north once again, the werewolves to meet them in East Poland. His breathe is difficult to catch and spots begin to cover his vision, Scott begins to panic and yelling for his mother as the _Roma_ clear and give Stiles space as his magic whips to life.

Laura will go with the younger members of the pack. They were born as her responsibility and she born as their next alpha. The older betas of the pack, the ones with amber eyes and silver scars, will stay to mislead the townspeople alongside Alpha Hale and Derek, Derek is staying because after his mother leaves the area with the betas of the pack, it'll be Derek's job to hunt for his lunatic uncle and care for the newly bitten werewolves.

Stiles can't leave Derek here. He can't. His magic begins to ruffle and toss his cards, shoving The Fool and The Moon under the Judgment card while the others are flung away. "Stiles!" He can hear Deaton shout, from a long distance.

He doesn't think his magic would let him abandon Derek now. He's sure it would drive him back to Derek's side after only a few days. That would make him sick to leave Derek now.

He fists the Judgment card in his fist, crumpling the card and he chokes out, "I'm staying." Over and over.

"I wish you would go with them, with your father." Derek says quietly as the _Roma_ begin to roll away. "Where you'll be safe."

"I stand with you." He says back even if seeing his father go hurts his heart. "You're mine." _Mine to love, protect and own_ he doesn't say.

"I hope they'll be okay." Scott says anxiously from his other side.

"They will be safe." Alpha Hale says for every ear. "Now it is our turn."

The werewolves spend the night darting in different directions, leading the hunters in as many directions as they possibly can, as far away as possible from the departing _Roma_ caravan. Stiles spends the night shuffling his deck of mangled cards, reading about the escapes and hunters' victories.

It's early morning before Derek and Scott find him, and their work begins.

**Author's Note:**

> The Fool -- Usually the main protagonist, the hero and the unlimited potential.  
> Judgement -- A new start, the necessity of hard decisions  
> Justice -- Balance and harmony, responsibility.  
> The Emperor -- Authority, leadership, strength, structure.  
> The Moon -- fantasy, dreams and illusions, in this case, used mostly to stand for werewolves  
> The Tower -- sudden change, ruin, and a bunch of negative things, arguably, the one truly negative card out of the whole deck
> 
> I played loose and fast with the tarot cards. I couldn't find a spread that spelled out werewolves, so the cards can usually be taken at face value.


End file.
